


Mama Likes More

by rabidchild67



Category: White Collar
Genre: Blackmail, M/M, Mildly Dubious Consent, Voyeurism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-24
Updated: 2012-09-24
Packaged: 2017-11-14 23:29:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,424
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/520633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sequel to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/520607">Mama Likes</a>; Neal reaps a few... rewards.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mama Likes More

“Neal, would you mind coming up to my office, please?” Hughes said over the phone. Neal felt a jolt; it’s not as if he’d done anything wrong, but it still felt like being called to the principal’s office. “Have a seat, Caffrey,” Hughes said, gesturing. He looked at Peter, seated at the small conference table near the window. His face was expressionless.

“Neal, it’s been two years since you joined the White Collar division and, while it hasn’t been without its ups and downs, your contribution hasn’t gone unnoticed.” He slid a file folder across to Neal. “As a thank you, and hopefully to encourage further good results, we’d like to increase the radius on your tracker to five miles. Here’s an addendum to your agreement with the Bureau.”

Neal picked up the folder, astonished. “Sir, I-I’m speechless. Thank you.” He extended his hand and Hughes shook it.

“You should thank Peter. It’s been based on his recommendation, as well as his assurances that you’ll continue to be a…model parolee.”

Neal looked over at Peter, mouth open, but couldn’t say anything. His grateful expression was enough. “We’ve closed 93% of our cases with you on board, Neal,” Peter said. “The division is the envy of the entire agency. You deserve it.”

“Now get back to work,” Hughes said gruffly. “I’ll want an update on the Freeman Pharmaceuticals case by the end of the day.”

“Yes sir,” Peter and Neal said in unison.

\----

When Neal arrived home that evening, he found another gift box at his door from June. Their “arrangement” over the last several weeks had, he could admit to himself, been unexpectedly pleasurable. Once he gave into the idea, he found he enjoyed playing to the camera, arranging Peter and himself for maximum effect, finding himself taking charge more often, being more vocal, more active, more aggressive, because he knew he was being watched. He'd discovered kinks he didn't know he had. And through all of it, Peter had proven to be the biggest surprise, gamely allowing Neal to use a seemingly endless succession of toys and even role-playing in the bedroom. If Neal didn’t know better, Peter came harder and responded better whenever the nanny cam was on.

Neal had yet to see any of the footage – didn’t dare ask – but from the increasingly generous gifts his landlady had been leaving for him, he imagined they were more than scratching her itch.

He closed the door behind him and crossed to the table, leaving the rather heavy box on top. He took off his jacket and returned, removing the small gift card and opening it. “Mama appreciates,” it said and Neal smirked. He undid the ribbon, slid the lid off and whistled, low. Inside, nestled in a pile of shredded paper, were two bottles of Leroy Vosne-Romanee Les Beaux Monts, an ’89 and a ’93 and another note, “One to drink, one to save – J.” Neal picked up the ’89 and examined the label closely, marveling at the generosity of the gift. He immediately resolved to hide it from Mozzie.

He heard a tap at the door and went to open it, finding Peter standing there with a file folder in his hands, which he held out to Neal. “I found this on your desk – you haven’t signed the addendum?”

Neal plunged his hands in his pockets and dropped his head. When he looked up at Peter, his expression was serious, earnest. “Look, Peter, while I appreciate this more than you can really know, I don’t think I want it if you’re doing it because of our relationship. I’m not sure I can live with knowing that I’ve gained concessions because I’m sleeping with the boss.”

“That had nothing to do with it.”

“You’ll forgive me if I don’t believe you.”

“Believe what you want, Neal. But it’s within my purview to grant it, based on merit. And you’ve done more than earn it, we both know that, and no one at the office would begrudge you. If you were Clinton or Diana or anyone else on the team, you’d have gotten a raise or a promotion. Given your... status as a convict…this was the most logical thing.”

“Oh. Ok, then. I guess.”

“If you don’t want it…”

“I want it!”

“That’s what I like to hear,” Peter said, his voice low and sexy, and Neal rolled his eyes at the double entendre. “Now, sign the addendum, and we can have the Marshals adjust your radius tomorrow.” Peter handed the folder to Neal.

Neal was doing mental calculations of the galleries, neighborhoods and restaurants to which he’d now have access as he leaned over the table and signed the paper. He could certainly admit there were advantages to behaving.

When he straightened up, Peter was right behind him, running his hands down Neal’s arms as he stepped in closer. Peter’s hands grasped the tops of Neal’s hands as he pressed his body against Neal’s. He could feel Peter’s cock, hard, against his ass. He moaned, turned within the circle of Peter’s arms and kissed him; Peter’s hands moved to his shoulders. “Yummmmm,” Neal hummed, eventually breaking the kis. “Can’t do this now. Moz’ll be here soon.” He thought he felt Peter’s body stiffen, whether because it was Moz who was coming over, or that he was disappointed in being interrupted, he wasn’t sure.

“I’ll be fast. I’ve been thinking about you all day.” Peter made quick work of undoing Neal’s pants and dropping them to the floor. He sank to his knees, yanked down the boxer-briefs he wore and took Neal’s entire cock into his mouth without preamble. “Oh!” Neal exclaimed, fisting Peter’s hair in his right hand, using the left to steady himself against the table. Wouldn’t want June's gift of wine to wind up on the floor.

Peter sucked Neal off with such efficiency Neal wasn’t quite sure what had happened. But he liked it. After he came, Peter stood up in front of him and kissed him again. He could taste himself on Peter’s tongue. Peter pulled away. “I should get going.”

“Really?” Neal knew they must part, but was still disappointed. He reached down and put his palm over Peter’s hard-on. “I can take care of that for you first.”

“I’ll save that for Elizabeth. She likes when I come home like this. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” Neal replied, pulling his pants back up, a ridiculously satisfied smile on his lips.

Peter kissed him goodbye, straightened his jacket and left. He buttoned his overcoat before heading down the stairs – no use alarming June's staff.

On his way out the door, he encountered Moz. “Suit,” Moz greeted him with a nod.

Peter gave him a cold look. “Moz.”

Moz pointed to the file folder in Peter’s hand. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Yes, Neal’s radius has been adjusted, per your demand. Now we’re square.”

“Maybe.”

“I don’t take kindly to being blackmailed, Haversham,” Peter said, taking a step closer, menacing.

Moz didn’t back down. “Well, there’s one way you can get out from under it, isn’t there? Just tell Neal, and it’ll all be over.”

Moz had Peter by the short and curlies and they both knew it. He’d discovered the nanny cam in Neal’s apartment during one of his routine bug sweeps, and had traced its transmission to June's study. Once he’d asked her about it, she’d folded like a cheap umbrella, and the rest was easy. Now Moz could use the leverage he had over Peter to gain his friend a few additional perks under the scope of his agreement with the FBI.

Peter said nothing, turned and left. Moz watched him get into the Taurus, thoughtful. He’d probably let him off the hook soon, but it was fun to finally stick it to the Man.

He continued up the stairs to Neal’s apartment, knocking before entering. He found Neal opening a bottle of a very fine Spanish Medoc he’d dropped off earlier in the week.

“Ran into the Suit as I was arriving,” Moz said, accepting the glass from Neal.

Neal sipped his wine. “He tell you about the adjustment to my radius?”

“He didn’t have to. You going to tell him you know?”

“And give up all of this?” He handed Moz the ’89 Leroy Vosne. June's guilty conscience was making her more and more generous.

“Nah. You know, I love Peter, but he really should know better than to try to con a con.”

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
